Page 93 of Pucking Around

I snort, trying to pretend I’m not intimidated by his vampire death glare. “Shows what you know. She likes it on top—”

Yep, it’s too late. The words are out my certifiably stupid mouth. Oh my god, he’s gonna kill me. Or leave me. I don’t know which would be worse. He’s reaching for the door again.

“No!” I squawk, throwing myself harder against it. “Fuck—goddamn it—please don’t take her from me!” I beg.

Caleb stills, glancing over at me. “Are you seriously worried that I will?”

“Of course, I am! You’re both so fucking smart. She’s a doctor and you were a chemistry major in college. You won all those awards,” I say with a wave of my hand. “You have way more in common with her than I do, Cay. The minute you set your tough guy bullshit aside and actually try for her, she’ll fall in love with you. Hard. And then I’ll lose her. She’ll walk away right into your kinky daddy dom arms. I’ll be the ring bearer at your wedding.”

That asshole has the confidence to smirk at me. “Let that be the fun thing you do on your day off today. Sit in this awful fucking feeling of knowing how fragile your position really is. You can’t win this girl with flashy spending. She’s not a bunny, Jake.”

“I know—”

“She doesn’t want us playing games either, putting her in the middle.” He levels his dark stare at me.

“I know. Totally. It was a dumb idea.”

“And I’m allowed time to figure out what the fuck I’m doing here,” he adds. “I’m allowed to shut the door and keep her to myself for a few hours.”

“I know,” I say again, nodding.

“If that’s too fucking hard for you, or you feel like you need to throw it in my face that I’m trying here—I’mtryingto build intimacy with her, Jake—”

“I know!”

“You two already had your kismet moment in Seattle. And you’ve got the weird twin thing. You even breathe in sync, like you’re a pair of damn aqua lungs. You practically finish each other’s sentences. You think you’re the only one dealing with feelings of being on the outside? To be in a room with you both is to be on the outside, Jake.”

His confession tears at me. I had no idea. He’s such a damn closed book. “Cay—”

“You’re already locked all the way in,” he goes on. “She’s never letting you go. Stop worrying and stop trying to control this. It’ll happen how it happens. I’m doing this my way. I’m taking my time, and I’m figuring this out. And if you don’t like it, then I can have my shit out by the end of the day—”

“No!” I say, grabbing his shoulder. “Cay, I’m sorry. I was being a dick. Let’s start over. Let’s forget the bet.”

“Good idea,” he deadpans.

“Say you forgive me,” I beg. “Please, Cay.”

He huffs, shaking his head. “Forgiven.”

I sigh with relief.

But that’s when he leans in, dark eyes flashing. “But unless you want me to test the limits of your nightmares, you’ll watch your fucking mouth when you talk to me. Understood?”

“I will,” I say with a determined nod. “I’ll watch it so hard. I won’t say anything to piss you off ever again, Cay, I swear. Scout’s honor,” I add, holding up two fingers.

Rolling his eyes, Caleb jerks the door open and leaves.

Fuck, he’s not gonna let this go. Cay forgives, but he doesn’t forget. And he can be diabolical when he wants to be. I don’t know how, but he’s gonna find a way to make me pay for my smart mouth. And fuck if I won’t deserve it.

44

This has been one heck of a week. Between all the game day travel, and the series of PT workshops hosted by the community college that Poppy oh-so-generously volunteered me to help run, I am absolutely beat. The boys are too. Honestly, I’ve hardly seen them this week. It seems like the only time we’re all in the house on non-travel days are between the hours of 9:00pm and 6:00am. Poor Jake is usually so tired he just crashes out asleep.

Which is why I’m surprised they said they wanted to go out tonight. I got the text from Caleb while I was finishing up my last hour of the PT training course. We’re going to Riptide’s Bar & Grill. I’ve already heard from Poppy that she’s going too. And some of the other guys—Novy, Langley, Sully and his wife Shelby.

I finish up with Fiona, the program coordinator, and she helps me drag my equipment bags out to the parking lot. As we walk out the automatic doors, Caleb’s Jeep pulls up to the curb. Both guys are in the front seats, shades on, hats flipped backwards. Caleb’s surfboard is strapped to the top rails.

“We’re lookin’ for a hurricane,” he calls. “Either of you ladies seen one around?”